sweater, but we went out anyway, through the revolving door and onto Seventy-Second Street. I looked up, enjoying the feeling of vertigo that always set in when you were looking up into a snowstorm, like maybe the snow wasn’t falling down, maybe you were rising up to meet it. We passed the Dakota and nodded seriously at the outside doorman, whose top hat was starting to get a dusting. We walked around the corner onto Central Park West, and my dad showed me the gargoyle heads on the fencing of the Dakota that extended all the way to the subway stop on the corner. I scooped some snow off the head of one of the gargoyles and let it melt between my palms. We were faux-debating the pros and cons of going into the park to see the snow (I wanted to go because it was right there; he wisely pointed out that we didn’t have our sleds) when my dad saw the town car make the turn onto Seventy-Second, pull up in front of Mayfair Towers and put its hazards on.
“I think that’s your ride, kid.”
“Yeah.”
My dad confirmed the destinations with the driver—Mallory’s apartment in Murray Hill, then the train station parking lot in Stanwich, Connecticut—and turned to me. “I’m so sorry about tonight.”
“I know,” I said, giving him a smile. “Me too. About the yelling, I mean.”
“Don’t forget the swearing.”
“I thought you’d be proud. I mean, I had to learn it somewhere.” My dad threw back his head and laughed one of his barking laughs.
“We’re okay?” he asked, and I nodded.
“We’re okay.” I wasn’t sure, but I was hopeful that we might be better than okay. That we couldn’t keep what we were doing, some version of our dynamic that no longer worked with two houses, two states, two families. That maybe we’d started something new tonight. And we’d just have to see how it went from here.
“I just…, he said, then shook his head. “I feel like there’s so much I want to fix, and make up to you, and—”
“Dad,” I said, raising an eyebrow, “how do you eat a whale?”
He gave me a smile that went wobbly around the edges. “One bite at a time.” He pulled me into a hug, ruffling my hair the way he’d always done. “Love you, pumpkin.”
I closed my eyes for just a second, freezing the moment, then pulled back. “Love you, too.”
“And now I should go back in. It’s normal not to feel your feet, right?”
I laughed and got into the car. The driver had kept it running, heat on, and in that moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced anything as nice before. I rolled down the window and saw that even though it was still snowing, my dad was standing on the sidewalk, smiling at me.
“Ready to go?” the driver asked.
“All set,” I said, and buckled my seat belt. He put the car in gear, signaled, and drove forward. I raised a hand in a wave, and my dad did the same, and I turned and saw him, standing in the snow without a coat, watching to make sure that I was okay.
The drive to Murray Hill hadn’t taken that long. The snow wasn’t deep enough that it was causing problems yet, but you could practically feel the city readying for it, with snowplows trundling past—not plowing snow yet, but clearly getting ready. I took the steps down to the building carefully, holding on to the railing—my new designer boots didn’t have a ton of tread—and let myself in.
The five flights hadn’t gotten any shorter, but not wearing heels did help. I knocked before entering. I didn’t want to scare Flora, in case she was back. I wasn’t sure what working late meant if you had a job in the mayor’s office.
But when nobody answered, I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and looked around—it didn’t seem like there was anyone else here. I hurried over to the counter, and there it was, waiting for me—my purse. I picked it up and just held it for a moment, beyond relieved. I double-checked everything inside was accounted for—it was—and then just looked at it a moment.
What would have happened if I’d had the presence of mind to grab it when we chased after Brad? What would this night have been like?
I closed the door carefully behind me and took the five flights down to the lobby, relieved to see that the super’s door was still a little bit cracked open,